


Of the subtle act of persuasion

by dreaminghigher (regencyaus)



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, etablished relationship kind of not really maybe, she's tiny, so much actually, there's a cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 11:08:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17042594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regencyaus/pseuds/dreaminghigher
Summary: Arthur, particularly slow any time before 10 o'clock in the mornings, doesn’t ask any of the things he really ought to be asking, like 'how did you break into my apartment?', or 'do youknowhow many security levels this place has?', or 'what the flying fuck.'So what comes out is actually:"Whatisthat?"Eames looks at him as if he was a particularly slow five year old child."This, Arthur," he says, pointing to the ball of fur on his lap, "is a cat."





	Of the subtle act of persuasion

Finding Eames in his couch in the middle of the night was, well, it was fucking weird okay, it was, it's just that in the grand scheme of things, it doesn't exactly make it to Arthur's Top 10 Weird Shit That Has Happened.

Hell, he's not sure if it makes it to his top 50, especially with the day they've had.

Eames is snoring lightly, cuddling something fluffy in his chest, but Arthur is pretty sure he's faking sleep.

God, he's beautiful.

Arthur didn't even hear him _break-in_.

He doesn't know if that proves Eames thieving abilities or just Arthur's complete exhaustion. He blinks a couple times, staring at the scene, but he's jet legged and sleep deprived and he doesn't know what's supposed to be— really weird?— about this? So he goes to the kitchen anyway, and makes himself tea and a late night snack and eats half-awake standing up in the middle of the kitchen and it's not until he's coming back that his mind catches up.

Wait.

"Eames."

Eames, thankfully, doesn't pretend to have been sleeping, though he does glare at Arthur.

"Shhh"

"...shhh?"

"Yes, shhh. You'll wake her up." He whispers.

And Arthur, still catching up and particularly slow any time before 10 o'clock in the mornings, doesn’t ask any of the things he really ought to be asking, like 'how did you break into my apartment?', or 'do you _know_ how many security levels this place has?', or 'what the flying fuck.'

So what comes out is actually:

"What _is_ that?"

Eames looks at him as if he was a particularly slow five year old child.

"This, Arthur," he says, pointing to the ball of fur giving a microscopic yawn and rubbing her tiny face on Eames neck, oh my _god_ , "is a cat."

Except she is two sizes too small to be a cat. She is now beginning to get scared, looking at Arthur from her place as a ball of fur on Eames chest and Arthur has slept less than three non-work hours on the last two days and is not equipped to handle this.

At all.

"I thought you'd be back to Mombasa by now," is the next thing he says which, no Arthur, not the point, you're supposed to be asking about the part where he broke into your apartment, remember. Eames notices her moving and looks down. She's trying to stay away now, curled up between Eames and the back of the couch, hiding from Arthur, though the little ears poking out are kind of a dead giveaway. Points for effort, he guesses?

Eames picks her up with both hands and this is ridiculous, she's the size of one of his hands and he's picking her up with two and she just looks ridiculous and small, fuck, Arthur needs eight uninterrupted hours of sleep. He's settling for six by now. Or really, four is more than enough.

"Not sure about Mombasa anymore. Thought I could wait for the money from the inception job to come through and try somewhere new, see where I go from there. It's okay sweetheart, I'm here." Arthur needs an infuriatingly long time to notice he's talking to the cat now. "It's just Arthur, he's not gonna eat you."

"I might."

Eames doesn't dignify that with an answer. Arthur sighs.

"Why is there a cat in my apartment, Eames?"

There, that's something he should be asking. Arthur gives himself a pat on the back for sticking with the plan.

"It's temporary. It was the middle of the night, what was I supposed to do?"

Go literally anywhere else? Knock?

Arthur comes closer and Eames looks up, seemingly noticing him for the first time.

"Hello, darling."

"Hi."

"You're... not wearing a suit."

Arthur rolls his eyes.

"I was sleeping."

"Those are pyjamas. Arthur, you're killing me."

"Shut up." He feels himself blushing. Eames smiles at that, because of course he notices.

"God, your _hair_."

Arthur ignores him and reaches for the cat. Eames curls her protectively against his chest.

"Hey, really, give me some time." He sits up, looking serious now. "I know this isn't ideal for you but she was in a _shoe box_. Someone threw her away. _In a shoe box_. I waited around to see if any other sibling cats were around for her but there wasn't anything and she was cold and scared. I can't really take her to an animal shelter right now and I can't leave her out there."

Jesus.

"I wasn't going to dump her on the _street_ , Eames. I just want to see."

Eames considers this for a moment before turning back to the kitten.

"You be good, okay. I'll be right here." And then he gives her a little forehead kiss and passes her to Arthur.

Jesus _Christ_.

She's not physically hurt anywhere, though Arthur is not surprised. Eames would have found a 24h vet instead of choosing to nap on his couch. Arthur reaches up a finger to pet her and she bites it. Figures. She won't be so quick to trust him, then, but Arthur guesses being left on a shoe box would do that to you. She seems to have most her teeth already, which makes her at least a month old. Whoever abandoned her waited the earliest they could to separate her from the mother without undeniably killing her. Although, if you're willing to leave a cat in a shoe box you're probably not worried that much about it. He feels a sudden useless rage.

"There are animal shelters near here."

Eames is a little hurt.

"I know Arthur, I'm not asking you to keep her-"

"Not you, Eames. Whoever left her. If you seriously hate a cat this much there are options, you don't have to leave her on the street."

Eames face twists in a way Arthur can't quite read.

He tries petting her again, moving his thumb lightly against a spot behind her ear. She seems to like that, so he keeps going, scratching softly her head and her little ears and the place she likes behind them. She purrs softly and relaxes in his hand.

"Okay." He's answering before he even realized he made a choice. "Okay, I'll take care of it. You can go and find a hotel now."

He thinks Eames will be happy to fix this. He thinks Eames will be halfway out his door within the minute.

Arthur looks up.

Eames is in his kitchen.

"Are you kicking me out?" He shakes his head. "Shame on you dear. What about our torrid love affair?"

Arthur was foolishly hoping Eames wouldn't do this. Yeah, he should know better.

"What torrid love affair?"

"Ours." Eames answers, without a pause. "Have you forgotten already?" He asks, with big bright eyes and barely hiding a smirk.

Yeah, about that.

Eames flirted the way he breathed, instinctively and naturally, tossing compliments and innuendos more often than not and Arthur _knew better_ than to fall for it. He did. But sometimes Eames would smile at him like he meant it, eyes full of mischief, and, contrary to popular belief, Arthur is not actually made of stone.

"We just sleep together sometimes Eames, when it's convenient and won't get in the way of the job, like _jesus_ , I'm not writing you name in hearts in my diary or whatever the fuck you think...what are you doing." Arthur doesn't think he quite makes it into a question.

"I bought a water bottle and poured her some water in the bottlecap earlier. Yeah, I know." Eames shakes his head at himself. "But that's all I could come up with in the travel store I dropped by and it worked? But if you have something bigger I'm sure she'd appreciate it." He opens the complete wrong cabinet and starts pulling pots out. "Like, a plastic container you can spare? Just for tonight. I can get her something more permanent tomorrow. Also you have an entire page in your moleskin covered with my name, I don't know if you're in the right place to talk." Eames glares at Arthur's frying pans like they are personally responsible for the lack of plastic containers in there.

"I do _not_ \- no, you're looking in the wrong place, it's the cabinet on the left, under the-"

"My left?"

"...we're literally looking in the same direction, how can you not know what left is. And if I wrote you name it's because you were annoying me. Stop smirking. It's true, god knows it happens often enough. No, not that door either- here, just, take the cat."

Arthur pushes the cat unto Eames' hands and kneels down next to him. He gets a tiny meow for his rough treatment, but she mostly ignores her change in placement. Arthur smiles, opening the cabinet on the left and looking for something suitable.

"I missed you darling."

Arthur is not gonna mistake when Eames is talking to the cat twice in one night, thank you very much. But weirdly enough, when he looks up, Eames is looking him.

Arthur looks back for a moment and instead of 'haha we've literally seen each other earlier today', all he can think to say is 'I missed you too'.

"Cat food." Arthur blurts out, before he does something stupid.

"Sorry?" Eames is genuinely confused.

"Cat food. Did you get any from the store?"

"Oh. No, they didn't have any."

"Buy some."

"Wha-? Right now?"

"There are 24 hour pet shops in LA, you know."

"I mean, yes, of course."

"Do you need a car?"

"Ah, no. I rented one. Just- I thought you'd want to wait until the morning."

Arthur looks down at the little ball of fur. "She's staying really quiet. She's scared, I get it, but she may also be weak. I think she's starving."

Eames is looking at him with a complicated expression again.

"What do I do, then? Should she be drinking milk?"

"Uh. I don't think so. I can give her some for now, sure, but I'm pretty sure she eats concrete food already. She's gotta be over a month."

Eames blinks a couple times, like Arthur just pulled some complicated magic trick. Arthur rolls his eyes. "Here." He shows on her. "You can see most of her teeth already. Here, see? These last begin breaking through after a month, and you can see quite a bit of them already." She bites his finger again for his trouble. He taps her nose and pushes up off the floor, grabbing a couple containers on his way. "She can eat solids. Just get her kitten food, stuff for cats under one year."

He fills the first container with water and puts it down for her. She doesn't waste a minute. Eames is still staring from the floor. Slowly, he starts to smile. "Oh my god. Oh my _god_ , Arthur, you like cats." He says with all the excitement of a kid meeting Santa on Christmas. Arthur scowls.

"I don't _hate_ them."

Eames keeps staring. Arthur feels a little self conscious, glares at the container to cover it up.

"We had one when I was a kid," he confesses finally. "Kinda brownish. Quite energetic. He was called Peanuts."

"Oh my _god_."

Arthur turns the glare back around to Eames. "You don't have to act so surprised, you know."

"Arthur, this must be the most personal thing you've ever revealed to me. Peanuts sounds like the best. You totally love cats. Oh fuck, you're gonna _keep her_. You're wearing pyjamas and you're gonna keep the kitten, this is too much all of a sudden."

"I am _not_ keeping- will you let go of the pajamas thing? I was _sleeping_. I'm not keeping her, don't get excited."

Eames is, very obviously, not listening.

"You're gonna be very happy here baby, you're lucky someone so nice-" Arthur scoffs. "someone _so nice_ wants to keep you. Now hang on tight, daddy will be right back."

"You are _not_ calling yourself daddy-"

"Single mistake. Be right back."

"You can knock next time."

Eames wasn't expecting that. He blinks a few times. "Okay. I will."

Arthur turns back to the container holding back a smile. No. Wait- "And _I'm not keeping her_."

Eames is already gone.

 

*

 

By the time Eames comes back the kitten has had some milk and is soundly asleep on Arthur's lap on the floor. Arthur is trying to wait up but he doesn't think he's that far off either. God, he's exhausted. Eames, predictably, notices.

"Go to sleep dear. I'll take care of it over here."

"But-" He needs to stop to yawn. "But the cat-"

"She'll be fine."

"But you-"

"I'll be fine too. I can use this couch here, right? It'll be alright." Arthur feels the immeasurable relief crashing unto him and realizes he was still afraid the minute the cat was taken care of Eames would leave, disappearing into the night, not to be seen or heard of for months.

"It's not a very comfortable couch." He says anyway, just to be fair, because it really isn't, he barely spends any time in it. Eames just shakes his head.

"Don't worry about it. Sleep."

Arthur seems unsure for a moment too long. Eames makes the decision for him and makes a shooing motion towards the bedroom. Arthur dutifully goes. Somewhere in his sleep clouded mind he still finds it in himself to ask if Eames needs anything, "like, a toothbrush or some comfortable clothes to sleep in?"

"If you have an extra towel, that be nice. I have a bag with clothes in the car."

"'Kay, you should find one in the cabinet on the bathroom. There's toothpaste in the first drawer."

"Goodnight darling," Eames says, with a soft smile.

"Night."

 

*

 

See, this is his fault. Arthur knows it is. He offered, he really did, and, staring at the extra toothbrush in the holder and the approximately 200 new bottles in his sink, he tells the little voice in his head he has no one to blame but himself. But there's just something so _stupidly domestic_ about it and Arthur wants to cry. He picks up one of the bottles and reads the label. Pre-shave oil. Followed by a shaving cream, and at least two post shave balms. Eames has a permanent 5 o'clock shadow that he trims, Arthur doesn't think he's actually shaved in months. 

After a moment's consideration, Arthur shrugs and includes half of them in his morning ritual. At least it makes his skin baby smooth.

He's starting with the balm when Eames comes in, still half dead to the world. Arthur chances a sideway glance and smiles a little to himself.

"Morning darling," Eames says, before a yawn. "Mind if I take a piss?"

"Go ahead. I'm close to done anyway."

Arthur finishes with the balm, looking it over in the mirror. Not bad, he thinks, stepping aside when Eames is done and goes to wash his hands.

"Glad someone's making use of it." Eames comments, marginally more awake. "They've been traveling around in my necessaire for weeks now, I just didn't quite feel like shaving these days." He stares at himself for a few moments on the mirror, turning his face this way and that.

"Guess I'm gonna finally do it now," he adds distractedly, going for bottle 137.

" _No_." Arthur stops him, _vehement_ , before he can quite think it through.

Eames was clearly not expecting that. The word feels like it's hanging in the air between them, and Arthur wishes uselessly that he could take it back.

But fuck it, he thinks, and reaches up a hand to run the back of his fingers against a rough cheek, like he's been dying to all morning. "Looks good like this," he breathes out, feeling how the stubble catches on his fingers, remembering the pressure on his inner thighs, the delicious apology of Eames' lips.

Eames turns fully to him, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

"Oh, you're still attracted to me. Nice, wasn't sure for a second there. You should have really invited me to join you yesterday, doll."

"I knew you were here for a reason," Arthur says, shaking his head. "Altruistic wasn't suiting you."

"I resent that, pet. I am quite altruistic, I just also happen to enjoy your company. Quite a bit, as it happens."

Arthur firmly pretends his heart didn't skip a beat. Traitor.

"I wasn't going to have sex with you, Eames, I was about to fall asleep."

"Still."

"Still what? Why else would you be there if I wasn't having sex with you?"

Eames glares at that. Arthur flattens his palm against his cheek and brushes his thumb in a small caress against the stubble, almost in apology.

Eames closes his eyes at the touch, and lets out a little sigh.

"You like it then, darling?"

"Yeah," Arthur answers, and feels Eames smile against his hand.

"Okay. It stays then," Eames says, leaving a little kiss in Arthur's fingers and reaching instead for his toothbrush in the sink.

"The cat's been fine, in case you're wondering," Eames adds after a few moments of silence, speaking around a mouthful of mouthwash. Arthur realizes he's just been standing there, watching Eames brush his teeth like some kind of creep, and feels absolutely awkward. "She ate a little and slept right away yesterday," Eames adds, after spitting out and washing away. 

Arthur shakes himself and leaves the bathroom in search of the cat, glad for the distraction.  "Where is she, by the way?"

"Last I saw her she was in the bookshelf. And, speaking of which, how much T. S. Eliot can you actually fit in there?"

"Shut up," Arthur answers, and says a little 'good morning' to the cat curled up on one of the bottom shelves. "We fly a lot for work. Sometimes you're bored and cheap books you can buy in an airport are a saving grace."

"Arthur. The Austens in there are _hard cover_."

"Shut up." Arthur says, pointedly turning away. "Fine, I like love stories. So what?"

"You closet _romantic_."

"Shut up."

"I bet you like sappy endings."

"Shut up."

 "I bet you believe in _the one_."

"Shut _up_."

"God, I'm seeing a whole new side of you. Don't worry sweetheart," Eames smirks, out of a shirt and clearly going for a shower, "your secret is safe with me," he says, just before he closes the bathroom door.

"Asshole," Arthur says, mostly to himself, and then feels guilty and apologizes to the kitten. She doesn't have to hear that kind of language. It's not her fault anyway.

She yaws, and stretches her tiny arms, and Arthur gets a sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach.

Fuck, Eames was right. Arthur is totally keeping the cat.

Might as well, he thinks, and goes take a look at what Eames bought for her yesterday, not the least bit surprised to see he already has everything he's gonna need.

Well, it's not like he didn't see it coming as well, he tells her, and sets up her things in a place for her. They're gonna figure this out, don't worry, he adds, and scratches her head. His new life as a cat owner begins.

He wonders if he can use this as excuse to keep Eames here for longer.

No harm in trying, right?

No harm in trying, he thinks, as he feels arms wrapping around his waist from behind, wet hair being shaken everywhere on his shirt.

"Asshole," he says again, more laughter than anything.

"What d'ya want for breakfast, doll? Do you have waffle stuff here? I could use some waffles."

"Sure. If you can make them I'll get us some coffee."

"Now, there's a love," Eames says, and kisses his cheek.

No harm in trying, Arthur thinks.

He winks at the cat, and feels himself smiling.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Will I ever write something that isn't tooth rotting fluff? Not today! lol Street cats could have rabies, or any number of diseases, don't just take them home without taking them to a vet first.
> 
> You can follow my inception blog at [dreaminghigher](http://www.dreaminghigher.tumblr.com)


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